


Dragon Years

by Keolah



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amusement Parks, Dragons, Gen, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-19
Updated: 2009-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Keolah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One dragon survives into the modern day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Years

The bold knight-errant, Sir Roland, rode through the village atop his white horse, bearing with him an enormous fang as proof of his deed. The poor peasant villagers all stared and gaped as he passed, marveling in wonderment at his accomplishments. Mighty Sir Roland slew the evil dragon! Bards would sing of his courage for generations!

Young Mary was not impressed. "So you killed the dragon? You big meanie. I bet it was just hungry. It only took one yak! It's been living up there for years and it only took one yak!"

Sir Roland looked down at her disdainfully. "Do you not know that children are to be seen and not heard? As are women. You had best learn that if you desire to be a good wife one way. Run along, now."

Chastised, Mary scurried off, but she didn't go back home like she probably should have. She imagined that she might get in trouble later, but she had to go see. The dragon's lair was a large cave in the mountainside above the village, up a narrow, winding trail. With some amusement, Mary wondered if dashing Sir Roland had had to tether his magnificent white horse near the edge of the village and ride a donkey up the slope.

The cave was dark inside, and she didn't see the dragon's body at first, until she went further back into the blackness. It was backed almost into a corner, as if it had been protecting something. Then Mary saw, with horror, shards of brightly colored eggshells scattered across the floor just behind the giant lizard's corpse, the rocky cave floor still moist with viscous goo from within them. The dragon had been a mother! No wonder she had stolen an extra yak. Surely when these eggs hatched, the hatchlings would have been ravenous.

Holding back vomit at the sight and smell of the place, Mary poked around a bit more, wondering if there had been anything else to see here. Then she noticed, tucked behind the dragon's hind leg, there was another egg, still intact. She wouldn't have noticed it from the other angle, and surely brave, bold, baby-killing Sir Roland hadn't noticed it either. The speckled red egg was a lot smaller than she might have expected from a creature of that size, but even still she could hardly get her arms around it awkwardly.

"Poor little dragon," she murmured as she carefully carried the egg out of the cave. "You'll starve if you're left here alone. I'll take care of you. I'll protect you from the nasty people."

Mary got the egg down the trail, and hid it in her family's barn, before anyone could notice she had gone anywhere. She nestled straw around the spotted egg, patted it gently, and headed off into the house.

* * *

Quiet. Darkness. Movement. Cold. It was too cold. Where was mama?

Mama was gone, and it was cold.

Waiting. Growing. Changing.

It was time.

Crack. Hatching was difficult. The baby dragon was small and weak. But at last, shards fell free, and it poked up its head for its first glimpse of light.

It looked around, blinking slowly, wondering who its mama was. But it was alone. Mama was nowhere to be seen.

The hatchling was hungry. Unsteadily, it poked around the strange square place it was in for something it could eat. There were large, four-legged creatures, but they were too big. Then it came upon a plump brown feathered bird. Startled, the hen tried to flutter away, but it couldn't fly, and as clumsy as the little dragon was, it still caught the bird and began to devour it.

The far end of the square place moved, and bright light came in. The dragon blinked, and saw a figure in the light, tall and two-legged. The man cried out and waved his arms, then ran off again, leaving the door open. The dragon was very confused, so it set about to finishing its meal, then went to see what was outside. The light was warm and pleasant, and squeaking in approval, it went over to sprawl out on a large rock.

"There's a dragon in the barn!" the farmer shouted. "Why is there a dragon in the barn?"

"It would have died," Mary said. "That dragon-slayer killed a mother. He's the evil one here! He cracked open those helpless eggs and spilled the yolks across the floor!"

The two of them approached the rock where the little dragon was resting, content after its meal. "And this little monster killed one of my chickens."

"He was hungry," Mary said. "I'm sure he won't eat much. He's just a little dragon."

"Little dragons grow into big dragons," the man said, shaking his head. "Just what did you intend to do with a baby dragon, Mary?"

"I don't know," Mary said. "But I couldn't leave him there to die. I'll take care of him! I'll make sure he doesn't hurt anyone or eat anything he's not supposed to!"

"This is a horrible idea." He sighed. "But fine. Maybe when it grows up it can protect us from bandits or predators. But if that thing can't learn to behave, it's gone. You hear me?"

"Yes, Papa. I'll take good care of him! I promise!"

* * *

The little dragon soon found that it had acquired the name "Sparky" for some reason. It didn't really care what the humans called it, as it grew to understand what they were saying, but it had to be a little annoyed that they didn't bother to ask it what it would prefer to be called, or at least dub it something that wouldn't sound ridiculous later on. The dragon, for its part, chose to think of itself as Sarkalassan, instead. It liked the sound of that much better.

They brought it food, and spoke to it, but try as it might, Sarkalassan's reptilian mouth and tongue could not mimic the sounds they were making, even though it could understand them fine. So instead, it tried to teach them to understand how it could communicate, although it didn't think it managed to make much progress. They were simple creatures, and lived quick lives, and it doubted that they had any sort of blood memory, being mammals. Sarkalassan was certain that they had only taken it in out of maternal instinct, even if they couldn't hope to survive long enough for it to mature.

Mary mated, and bore young, and Sarkalassan decided to try with the younger generation in hopes that they would be more malleable in learning to communicate in a draconic manner. It was surprised and pleased at the progress it made this time, and they learned far more quickly than it had given them credit for being capable of. Even if their own tongues were a poor fit to the dragon's speech, they would at least be able to understand it as well as they were capable of.

Generations of humans passed. The villagers had long grown used to his presence, but travellers still came to see him, sometimes ones from very far away. They were the ones it got most of his real news from, even though it doubted that they realized it could understand them perfectly. Humans seldom seemed to think that anything besides themselves was intelligent. Through them, it realized that most of the dragons in the world had been wiped out by humans. They were pernicious creatures, frequently disrupting the natural order of things, and it was difficult for a species such as the dragons to keep up with such a quickly reproducing one as the humans.

Sarkalassan grew. It knew it had to be cautious, so as not to make the humans think it was a danger to them. They were building increasingly deadly weapons with time, always trying to find new ways to kill one another. It knew that with one wrong move, the easily startled species might decide to turn those weapons upon the last of dragonkind instead.

A strange fat man came one day and spoke to the villagers. "So, what do you say? One million? Two? Name your price here, I'm flexible."

"The dragon is not for sale," said Farmer John, the latest alpha male of Sarkalassan's primary family of humans.

"Oh, come now. Just think of it! You could be rich! You could get away from all this rural business and buy a house in the city. You could buy servants of your own to wait on your every need."

Sarkalassan was very confused. It knew the humans used something called "money" to indicate their wealth, but while they had originally used good, solid precious metals, they had increasingly taken to using paper tokens instead. They were so fragile and short-lived that it had to think that they were merely using them as temporary slips indicating that someone owed them real currency, but as time went on it saw less and less of the real currency actually being used.

It was even more confused at the thought that someone might want to buy it. Did they consider it their property instead of the other way around? Sarkalassan found the idea to be laughable. It was larger than a yak now, and could easily go up against an unarmed human and win, but it knew that were it to do so, the humans would bring out their latest weapon against it, that they called "guns". They were worse than bows, as they threw bits of metal rather than wooden arrows to pierce armor and skin. It knew that if the humans wanted it dead, they were perfectly capable of making good on that.

The fat man left after Farmer John refused any offers he made, but he came back a short time later. "I tried to make things easy on you and let you get something more out of it, but you wouldn't take the money. So guess what? I own you all now. This village is mine."

"What are you talking about?" Farmer John said.

"Bought and paid for. You're all going to stay on as staff at my new theme park. I'm calling it, Dragonland!" He held up his hands, chuckling to himself. "What do you think? Great, isn't it?" He laughed some more.

"You're mad."

Sarkalassan really didn't understand what was going on. The pastoral village restructured itself rapidly, to the point where it was nigh unrecognizable. Brightly colored lights, strange metal structures, and signs were put up all over. Some of the humans dressed up in costumes that it could only assume were supposed to be dragon-like. The window of a new shop displayed various clothing, drinking mugs, and accessories, all with pictures of dragons on them.

Sarkalassan had to wonder if it hadn't found itself the icon of some new religion or something. It had encountered the occasional would-be worshipper among the pilgrims who came to the village, but nothing nearly on this scale. Was this how humans of the current generation expressed their adoration? And all with this exchange of paper. Perhaps it was as close to a tribute to the dragon's hoard as they could manage with their bizarre paper economy.

"Are we getting lots of money?" it asked Farmer John.

"What?" John said. "Oh, yeah. Business is booming. I'd just rather still be milking yaks than have been made into your full-time caretaker. No offense, of course, Sparky, it beats getting out there and dealing with the tourists."

"I don't want a paper hoard," Sarkalassan said. "It's flimsy and doesn't last. Can you exchange it for some nice gold or gems?"

"Er, that might be difficult. I don't control the cash flow. I'll need to take it up with Mr. Clark. But I'll see what I can do."

Later, a truck came to Sarkalassan's lair to deliver what appeared at first glance to be a fine collection of old-style gold and silver coins, and enormous cut gems. However, when they dumped the objects out on the floor of the lair and the dragon examined them closely, it realized that they were all worthless fakes. They were all made of that strange new substance the humans called "plastic". This was an outrage! Did they really think it wouldn't notice that they were clumsily trying to deceive it?

"John!" it roared.

The caretaker came running. "Yes, what is it? Is there a problem?"

"I am greatly offended!" it said. Well, it was more of a roar than actual words in any language, but the meaning was clear even to a human.

John backed away in fear. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

"I asked for gems or precious metals. Instead, I got... plastic!" It kicked away a plastic disc shaped like a gold coin. "This is no hoard fit for a dragon!"

"Oh dear," John said. "I'm terribly sorry. I'll have this stuff taken away and go have another talk with Mr. Clark. Obviously he misunderstood me and only sent in props he thought would amuse the tourists."

"You do that," Sarkalassan said. It took a step back and breathed out a puff of flame upon the offending "props", which softened and lost their shape but didn't entirely melt. "I want treasures which will not melt or burn under the slightest heat."

John left, and some other humans shortly arrived to clean up the warped and half-melted plastic coins and take them away. Later, another human showed up, carrying a small sack and looking quite scared. He spilled out the contents of the sack onto the floor in front of Sarkalassan. Tiny coins clinked onto the floor. They looked to be copper and silver at a glance. Then the young human ran off as quickly as he could.

No gold or gems, but at least this was real metal this time. Sarkalassan was mollified for the moment. It poked a claw at the coins thoughtfully to try to figure what they were actually made of. No, it realized, they weren't actually as much of the precious metals he had hoped for. They were mixed with other, more durable metals. Sarkalassan was surprised and pleased. It hadn't thought that humans would think so much in the long term as to create things like this that would last long after they were gone. It was satisfied at the offering.

When the tourists saw the new hoard, they began to throw in coins of their own as offerings, to which Sarkalassan responded with pleasure. Sometimes they asked it to perform minor tricks or to pose with it for a "photo" with their little picture device, in exchange for coins. Sarkalassan was happy enough to comply.

Dragonland enjoyed a steady stream of tourists, but then one day a man came to visit and wanted to examine Sarkalassan. "He's a scientist," John explained. It wasn't the same John. It was the former man's grandson. Sarkalassan didn't understand the human propensity to recycle names, but it supposed that there were so many humans and only so many names to go around.

"What does he want?"

"He wants to study you a bit," John said. "He wants to examine your body and see how you work."

"He wants to kill me and dissect me?" Sarkalassan snarled, nostrils flaring.

"No, no, no," John said hastily. "He just wants to touch you and look at you closely. He doesn't want to hurt you."

"Hmph. Fine then, but he's going to have to pay for the privelege."

"That can be arranged."

When the scientist came to see Sarkalassan, he brought with him a shiny golden necklace. "This is real gold, though I hope you're satisfied with fourteen carats."

The dragon took up the gold chain in a claw and examined it closely, then laid it aside on top of a pile of coins in satisfaction. It submitted itself to the scientist's humiliating examinations. The man measured and poked and prodded it every which way, but true to their word, did not actually harm it.

Afterward, John asked the man, "So what did you find out about him?"

The scientist turned to John and said, "Well, for starters, he's a she, so far as I can figure."

John blinked. "Wait, the dragon is female?"

"It's a bit technical for you, I imagine," the scientist said. "But so far as I can tell, she's actually asexual. Once she's mature, we could be seeing new baby dragons in the world again! This is huge! The scientific community will be ecstatic by the news!"

After the scientist was gone, John said, "Did you know about this?"

"Of course," Sarkalassan replied, giving a draconic chuckle of amusement. "All this time you had all assumed I was just like you humans?"

"So should we start calling you 'she' now?"

"I don't really care what you call me. He, she, it, it's all the same to me."

Dragonland calmed a bit as time passed, and underwent major renovations. Sarkalassan changed lairs three times during that period. It didn't understand the need of humans to constantly change things, but it didn't mind. It had been running out of room to store its hoard, and was growing large enough to desire a little more space as well.

To occupy itself, however, Sarkalassan asked for books to be brought and read to it. It wanted to learn all it could about this "science". Humans were tiny, brief creatures, but they were capable of learning rapidly when they put their minds to it, and they had learned quite a bit about the world around them and how it worked.

But not all was always well in the world. Sarkalassan's caretakers spoke of wars going on in distant places, humans killing humans. It didn't think much of it at first, as humans had always killed one another, but there were tales of how they used devices called "bombs" to destroy towns with dragon-like fire. Humans never ceased to try to find new ways to destroy one another and their surroundings. Fewer and fewer people began to visit Dragonland.

"Sarah," he said, calling for its latest caretaker. "Why does no one visit any longer?"

Sarah looked up at it. She hardly reached its shoulder. "It's the war," she explained. "So many people have died."

"Is your species attempting to wipe itself out as they had once done to mine?" Sarkalassan said.

"I don't know," Sarah said. "They are trying to kill everyone who is different from them, anyone who believes differently or looks different. I don't know how long they'll go before there isn't anyone left, if they keep finding more and more people wanting like this."

"Will they come here?" the dragon asked. That would be inconvenient. That would make such a mess of its hoard, and it was rather fond of its pets and servants. It was no longer afraid of their guns for its own sake. Its scales were much thicker and harder than they had been when it was a hatchling.

"I don't know, Sparky. I hope not. We have no way to defend against them."

"They have guns and bombs. I have dragon fire. Your kind slew mine in the past, but that will not happen again. I have not been idle. I know how your weapons work."

By its command, the humans worked hard to rebuild Dragonland as a fortress. When they learned what was going on, refugees came from far and wide to take shelter in Sarkalassan's lair. And sure enough, it wasn't long before the hostile humans turned their attention to there.

They came in from above in their metal flying machines called "planes", a mockery of dragonkind. Sarkalassan met them in the air and knocked them out of the sky a safe distance from the fortress before they could drop their bombs upon his home. When that failed, they came in machines crawling across the ground called "tanks". Sarkalassan was prepared for them as well, as it swooped in, agile as a hawk. It ripped holes in metal with its claws, and breathed dragon fire into the insides of them. When done in the right place, this could cause the machines to explode.

The humans were more persistant than it had given them credit for, as well as more foolish. Not content with a simple demonstration of power, they sent all the planes and tanks against Dragonland that they had, and one and all of them were destroyed without so much as touching the fortress. When that proved futile, they sent missiles and rockets flying through the air toward the dragon's lair. Sarkalassan was still young and quick, and he almost made it a game out of knocking them off course, especially if they struck the enemy's strongholds instead.

"Do you think they will give up yet?" he asked Sarah. "They must know they cannot win. They have not even scratched the place."

"Humans are rarely so reasonable or logical. Especially the fanatical sort. I have to wonder if they'll ever give up."

"If they do not, I will be forced to destroy them all."

"I'm so glad I'm on your side," Sarah said with a smirk.

The enemy sent machines and weapons at them until there was nothing left to send, and then when they ran out they started trying to build more. Did their existence so offend these foolish humans that they were willing to throw away their lives and resources like this? Sarkalassan shook its head and snorted smoke. Best time to act before they rebuilt from this failed venture.

Out from the fortress of Dragonland, Sarkalassan flew, torching every human settlement it could find along the way. The cities burned, all the ones which had not already been destroyed by bombs were seared in dragon fire. The dragon could not distinguish between which humans were the ones behind the war and which were just trying to survive. It imagined that anyone not already taking refuge in Dragonland was probably on the side of the enemy anyway. And in another way, it was a long-awaited vengeance for the deaths of its mother and all the remainder of dragonkind. When all was said and done, only smoldering ruins remained of the infestation.

Sarkalassan returned to its lair, and said, "The age of humanity is over. Now, the age of dragons may begin."

"They're dead?" Sarah said, looking horrified. "They're all dead?"

"Would you prefer that it were you instead?" the dragon pointed out. "No. Humans are pernicious, destructive creatures. But fear not. Serve me well, and I will continue to protect you, and I will ensure that nothing like this may ever happen again."

"I don't know how people are going to take this."

"They should be grateful. They live now in safety because of me. The lands around here may be converted again into farmland. I do not want anyone going far, however. Any human I find outside of the bounds I set, I will assume to be a rogue, and they will be destroyed. Go to them, and let them know how things will be from now on."

"Yes, Master." She bowed to it, and left.

Under Sarkalassan's careful direction, the fortress transformed into the last settlement of humankind, and began to prosper again. The dragon was wary about any humans who might have escaped the purge, and made frequent sweeps of the countryside to slay any of the pests it came across.

Then one day, in the quiet of its lair, it laid six gorgeous speckled eggs. Dragonkind would live on.

* * *

"Welcome to Humanland," Sarkalassan said, greeting another group of young dragons. It hadn't met these hatchlings before, and they seemed quite eager to see the humans. "Once, ages ago, humanity almost wiped out our kind from the world, and then their own. Now, this last village of humans has been preserved under the careful adminstration of dragonkind, so that they aren't allowed to spread and destroy as they did in ages past."

"Wow," said one of the hatchlings. "They're so funny looking! How do they manage to not tip over all the time?"

"Why do you even keep them around?" asked another. "They're nasty, evil things."

"You didn't have to come along, Tirashalan," said a third.

"Of course I did. I couldn't let my siblings go somewhere and have fun on their own, could I?"

Sarkalassan chuckled softly and looked to the dissenting hatchling. "So, Tirashalan is it? Do you think the humans should have been wiped out entirely, then?"

"Well, sure. What right have they to live if they're going to try to destroy other species, and one another?"

"Did you know that humans are actually very intelligent?" Sarkalassan said. "They make up for their lack of blood memory by being able to learn and think very quickly on an individual basis. We are born knowing how to speak, but they can learn how to understand us before a hatchling will breathe its first flame."

"Wow, neat!" said the first hatchling. "That's amazing!"

"Unfortunately, their brief lifespans lead them to thinking in the short term, without consideration of the consequences of their actions. And so, these humans are carefully raised and trained under the watchful eye of dragonkind. It has worked quite well, as never again have they gotten so out of hand that they threaten the world so much as they had once."

Tirashalan shook its head and said, "I find it hard to believe that these rodents were anything more than a nuisance, even though I know it happened."

"Indeed. But also remember that not all humans are bad," Sarkalassan said. "Generation after generation, one family of humans looked after me, cared for me, and served me, even when I was too small to defend myself from them. Down among these humans, there are still those who to this day, affectionately call me 'Sparky'."


End file.
